Broken
by Yami Mori
Summary: Buttercup has been on the move for the past three years, running from her past, but what happens when a certain green eyed thief happens to be in town? And what will she do once he realizes that she's not as strong as she used to be?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Powerpuff Girls

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Ugh, what a horrible day. Not that it was really all that different from any other day, really, but today … Buttercup could have sworn something was off, or different anyway. It wasn't that Mr. Braxon had complained about the quality of the diners coffee and cheese danish (again), or that it was raining and that she'd been let off of work late (again), or even that she was heading back to her dingy rat-hole apartment on the corner of the street. No, it was something else … something different….

Buttercup scowled as she pulled her jacket tighter around her body to ward off the cold and rain. Whatever. There_ wasn't_ anything different about today. Same sort of shit day she'd been dealing with for the last three years. And if there was something different about today? Well fine, bring it, because she'd been through enough shit experiences recently. What was one more? Couldn't be that bad. Not much worse than the day anyway.

The green eyed young woman coughed into the cold air as she picked up her pace. She was drenched. If she stayed out any longer, she was going to catch a cold (she could feel the damn thing coming on) and God knew that she couldn't afford to miss another day of work. There were bills to pay and food to put in her stomach. If she got one more black mark at work, her bastard of a boss would fire her and then where would she be? Where would be go next, and how would she get there?

Sirens in the distance made her ears perk up, eyes immediately darting in the direction of the sound, but almost as fast as she looked, she looked away. It wasn't any of her business anymore. It wasn't her job anymore._ None of her business._

Like a mantra, she repeated the phrase over and over as she kept her eyes trained on the wet, dark concrete that disappeared under her boots, and with each step she hated herself. The sirens were like a tempting call, but what could she do? Nothing, that's what. She'd just get in the way. Better to just get home and let the cops do what they were supposed to do.

None of her business.

But as she made her way down the dark street, the sirens were getting louder and her fist clenched in her pockets, nails digging into the soft skin of her palm. Go away! Catch the bastard already and just … damn it, go away!

A firm grip suddenly wrapped around her upper arm, catching her off guard, and right as the flashing lights of a cop car could be seen coming around the corner, she was pressed against a wet, grungy wall. A curse was already in her mouth, scathing and furious that someone would have the gall to grab _her_, but she didn't get to say it. The mouth pressed against hers prevented her from making any sound at all.

Annoyance warped into rage instantly as she tried to push her assailant off of her, away, something, but he might as well have been made of steel for all the good it was doing and suddenly the weight of just how _weak _she was came crashing down on her again. He wouldn't budge a millimeter away from her, but instead pressed her harder against the wall, shifting his mouth a bit to fit hers better. Water soaked through the back of her jacket and stuck uncomfortably to her back, making her shiver regardless of the white hot anger that threatened to eat her alive.

The man (she could feel the rough scratch of a man who hadn't shaved in a few days) must have taken the shiver to mean something quite different, because a firm though gentle hand slid up her shoulder and around to softly stroke the sensitive skin of the back of her neck, making her gasp in surprised at the sudden, though pleasurable, sensation. That instant was all her assailant needed as he smoothly swept his tongue into Buttercups mouth, sliding it across her own invitingly.

Regardless of the rage that sang in her blood, seasoned with a tiny hint of fear, she moaned at the sensation, instinctively responding as a strangely … peaceful feeling began to settle over her. Here was a mysterious man, a man who just up and grabbed her off of the middle of the street and kissed her (and very well she had to admit) and wouldn't let her go … she should be furious! The logical part of her mind that was able to move away from the situation knew that by everything that was Buttercup, this man should be dead by her hands, if that were possible, but … it was strange.

Even as she kissed him back, tangling her fingers into fine, longish hair thick with water so that she could deepen the kiss, the agitation and anger that had filled her seemed to shrink and fade away. A strange sort of peace that was almost … familiar in an odd and unexpected sort of way seemed to fill her slowly. Suddenly that awful feeling she'd felt creeping up on her all day seemed to disappear.

It was the most peace she'd felt in three years.

Buttercup was barely aware as the cop cars sped past them, screaming and wailing as their bright lights flashed in the gloom. She was so caught up in the liberating feeling of peace with this stranger that honestly Blossom could fly by and start screaming about what happened three years ago and the green wouldn't give a damn. Buttercup wanted to make it last. Didn't want to let it go.

"Thanks," whispered his deep, masculine voice as he slowly pulled away, green eyes gleaming even in the dim light as he smiled. "You saved me."

The ex-Powerpuff Girl stared in stunned silence, floored. She saved him? What was he-?

"I wish I could stay longer, beautiful, but I have to go." Tender fingers that had been buried in her long, dark locks lingered along her jaw before falling away, making her instantly miss their comforting heat. He stepped away from her, shifting a small bag on his shoulder, and she let herself lean against the wall for support. She couldn't feel her legs. There was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't be able to support herself right now. "And you shouldn't walk home alone by yourself at this time of night. You never know who you'll run into."

Buttercups breath lodged itself in her throat as the man with night black hair and green eyes began to _float_ off of the ground, raising higher. She gaped, surprise, dread, and a touch of fear instantly destroying any residual peace she'd been feeling from the moment before. There was no way. There was absolutely no way ….

Suddenly he took off fast, cutting through the rain like a blade, disappearing in a dark blur. Her body shook hard as she stared at the place he'd been, replaying the events of the last few minutes like a record. So many questions, concerns, _emotions_ flowed through the green like a wave as she stood paralyzed in the rain.

But she knew one thing for certain, though.

That feeling she'd been feeling all day, like something was different and about to get worse, something that she hadn't been able to figure out all day suddenly had a name. The dark haired stranger with the green eyes had seemed familiar for a reason, and that reason, that dreadful, horrible, amazing reason was called Butch.

And he was in town.

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><p>AN: So hello everyone! I hope you've enjoyed this prologue. I wanted to do a story that was a little darker set while all the PPG's and RRB's are a bit older. It's not only going to be a Buttercup/Butch story (the blues and reds will have their shots as well), but the story will focus primarily on the greens.

This is my first long story, so I need your support! If you are intrigued and want to read what happens next, please drop a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Powerpuff Girls

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Buttercup rubbed a hand across her face as she stared at the small, old T.V. that sat in the far corner of the diner. Against her better judgment (and her sanity), she'd been watching the news all day. Apparently there had been a robbery sometime yesterday evening, when a priceless and extremely rare set of crystal daggers up and vanished like a puff of smoke from the city museum. It was the headline story, repeated over and over again ever since she had woken up stuffy and boarder-line sick. The police had no idea who could have done it, but suspected that it was somehow related to recent cases of thievery reported across the country.

The green sneezed and glared at the reporter on the dirty screen. Buttercup had a good idea of just who was the cause of so much fuss and the thought of _him_ made her blood boil.

"You know, judging by that face you're making, I'd say you're having boy troubles."

Buttercup redirected her well practiced glare to he co-worker and friend, Dawn. The young woman only smiled in the face of such disdainful grumpiness as she swiped a cleaning rag over the counter-top. The green scowled before leaning over the bar with a huff, crossing her arms.

"There is no boy. I'm just tired of watching this shit over and over again."

"Then don't watch it," commented Dawn lightly as she dropped her rag and joined the green. Buttercup looked at the olive skinned girl, unamused. "Don't give me that look," she continued. "If you keep watching the news when it makes you angry, then you're only making heartache for yourself." The ex-super heroine looked away, her way of acknowledging that the other woman had a point. One that she wasn't quite ready to admit to yet.

In all the time that Buttercup had known Dawn (which really wasn't that long, when she really thought about it) she was always surprised by the girls annoying ability to get strait to the heart of the matter. But that was one of the primary reasons that Buttercup liked her. She didn't beat around the bush.

"You're also sick, aren't you BC?" Speaking of not beating around the bush ….

"I'm not sick," mumbled Buttercup as she blatantly blew her nose in a tissue before throwing it away. Dawn raised an eyebrow before reaching for a cup and filling it with orange juice. Buttercup took the offering with a grateful nod before she sipped the sour drink. "I can't afford to miss work. You know that Steve is looking for a reason to fire me."

"And if you cause everyone in the diner to get sick, that _won't _give him a reason?" she questioned pointedly.

"I wouldn't have gotten sick if he hadn't made me work late," muttered the green, silently adding that she also wouldn't have run into _him _either_._ Hopefully the bastard got sick too. She hadn't gotten that cold overnight, and the rain had only sped up the process. "So if everyone gets sick, it's not my fault."

"Try telling him that," she says with a sigh. The diner wasn't very busy right now. It was Wednesday right after the lunch rush on a rainy day. Sane people would finish work and go straight home, and that was how it was proving to turn out. Only a handful of people were here huddling around their coffees, watching the television. Really, it was the perfect day to stay inside at home, drink a nice cup of hot chocolate and work on getting better, like she used to when she was a child, but the ex-Puff pushed those thoughts to the side. Those days were gone. This was reality, and the reality was that she had to work, sick, to make money and survive. "But really, you should go home."

"No can do," Buttercup replies as she finishes the OJ and pretends to be revived. "There's work to be done, and you know these idiots out here can't pour coffee for themselves."

Dawn chuckles, shifting her brown hair over her shoulder a little so that she can get a head count of the people in the eatery. "Yeah, all seven of them," she says. "Well, if you're so insistent to work, go clean something and stay away from the food."

"If you don't see me in fifteen minutes, assume I've died cleaning the bathroom."

"That's a pretty undignified place to die."

_I've been in worse,_ Buttercup mentally comments as she pushes herself away from the counter to grab a broom.

Sweeping did manage to distract her from the television and its annoying message for a bit. Anymore, she liked having busy work. Idle time was bad time in her book. It gave her the time to think, and that was the last thing she wanted, by all means.

But sweeping was mindless, and she soon found her mind drifting in the usual path it had been taking today.

_He_ was here. And if he was here that meant that his brothers weren't that far behind, and that was bad news. Her primary goal, as of this moment, was to stay under the radar and pray to God that they left soon. That he left soon. Ever since she left Townsville three years ago, she'd avoided everything that had to do with her previous life, including (which in retrospect might not have been the best idea) tracking where all her past enemies were. She'd completely forgotten about the Ruffs, hadn't heard head or tail of them in the media, and to be completely honest hadn't thought about them once in years. Hell, she hadn't even seen them since she was, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? She'd just assumed that they'd crawled into some dank hole somewhere and died … or she'd hoped anyway.

It would seem that she was wrong. Not that that was a very rare thing to happen anymore.

So if she could, she wanted to stay here. She'd finally dug a niche out for herself (even if it was fit more for a rat), and even though it wasn't perfect here, she'd worked hard and even had a few friends. She didn't want to leave. Not yet.

The news suddenly changed and Buttercup immediately stopped as a familiar reddish-pink blur sped across the screen before landing to stand next to the Mayor of Townsville. The greens heart pinged painfully at the familiar sight of Townsville and its greatest super heroine, Blossom.

At twenty one, Blossom looked good. Beautiful, confident, intelligent, reliable, heroic. She'd long ago retired her old Powerpuff Girls uniform in favor of an older, more mature look in the red and black jumpsuit she wore now. Her long red hair was still pulled back high on her head, though no red bow accented it anymore, and her eyes flashed with easy intelligence and pride. She was Blosssom, and she'd taken to solo fighting well. She was still young, and a lot of people said that she still had a lot more to learn, but everyone was confident in the fact that she would be amazing once she finished growing and reached her prime.

Buttercup looked away from her sister as she reached for the mop.

The green thought the red was a prideful, annoying, stuck up bossy know-it-all most of the time, but she had to agree that out of the three of them, she'd always thought that Blossom would outshine everyone. And Buttercup had been right. Even though it was painful to see.

Her grip on the mop handle tightened as she tried not to listen to Blossoms latest success, but failed and was horribly aware of every word her sister said. It was the same sort of practiced lines she usually gave, but it was familiar and she couldn't help but miss it. Miss the red.

"You know, I heard a while back that that girl, Blossom I think? That she was a part of some sort of super crime fighting team when she was a little girl. Something like the Flowerpower Gals? There were three of them, like best friends or something. You ever hear something like that?" questioned Dawn to the green as she watched the red thoughtfully, and Buttercup looked down into her dirty mop water.

"Nope. Never heard of them."

"I hear that she has super powers and can fly and has super strength," commented Dawn softly before she swung her dark eyes to the greens. "Wouldn't it be amazing to fly?"

Another particularly sharp and painful ping of regret caused Buttercups mouth to go dry and she swallowed hard. "Yeah. I imagine it would be like … freedom," Buttercup somehow managed to force out, and suddenly all she wanted to do was go back to her shit apartment, pull her covers high over her head and pretend not to exist. She sighed. "I want to get a pilot's license one day, you know? Learn how to fly."

"That's an odd thing for you to want."

Buttercup could have sworn that she felt her heart drop right out of her chest to land in the dirty water at her feet as that voice, that damn voice from _last night_ came from behind her. A cold sweat instantly lined her back as she gripped the mop handle in a hold so tight she was waiting for the worn wood to crack, even with her diminished strength. Oh no, no, no. No way. It can't be _him._ There is no way in the world he could possibly show up at her diner of all places! God couldn't possibly hate her that much!

Using the hard won control she'd earned as a Powerpuff Girl, Buttercup subtly, casually peaked through the bangs of her hair as she looked over her shoulder. Her heart was beating a fast rhythm as worry and fear burned through her veins, fueling the growing anger. _He _was here! She was sure of it!

But as the green continued to search for her male counterpart, she found … nothing. Curiosity and confusion won out over her careful patience as she straitened up and took a good look around the diner. Nothing was different than it had been fifteen minutes ago. There were no sly green eyes to pin her down, no flying super evil villain, no soft lips …. Buttercup looked hard, scrutinized everything, but nothing was wrong.

She looked around again a third time, still on edge, before she slowly began mopping again. She must have imagined it. God knew that he'd been on her mind all day, so it wasn't too farfetched to assume that she'd have an auditory hallucination about him. Especially on such a sore subject.

"BC?" called Dawn as she lifted a dark eyebrow. "You ok?"

The green frowned. Good question.

"I'm fine," she finally replied as she put the mop back into the bucket, trying to be careful not to slosh the dirty water onto the freshly cleaned floor. "But I think I might leave soon, actually. Get over this cold, you know? " _Hopefully figure out if I'm going insane or not_, she mentally added.

"Good!" the short young woman said in approval. "You need the rest. You look like shit." Buttercup shot Dawn a dirty look. Dawn shrugged and smiled. "What? I call them as I see them."

"And you failed to tell me this earlier?"

Her friend simply pulled on a very Cheshire cat-like grin. "I did. You weren't listening. Now go! I'll cover for you if Steve makes a stink about it."

Nodding, but taking one last, uneasy look around the diner just to be sure, she retrieved her wool coat. Now that she'd admitted that it was probably a good idea to get some rest, the cold must have taken it as its cue to get worse because the body-aches and shivers had arrived. She really should get home.

"If you need anything, BC, just give me a call, ok?"

The green nodded to her friend, but knew she wouldn't. Dawn was way busier than the green, taking care of her large family, and Buttercup would feel guilty for taking her away from them. Especially for something as pathetic as a cold.

Besides, she could take care of herself. She'd been doing it for a few years now.

Just as the green was leaving though, she slipped on a wet spot of the floor that hadn't had the decency to dry quickly and, instinctively, she willed herself to fly.

And for the billionth time in the past three years, she couldn't.

Disappointment and mental anguish well up in the green as she began pushing herself up. Weak. She was weak. She was worthless. She couldn't even save herself from a damn _puddle_ of all things. This day had been too much, and it was all because of _him._ _He_ was a part of the past! The past had no right to barge into her new life like this!

Already Buttercup could feel the onset of depression set in, and she didn't even look up as a hand was offered to help her up. The old Buttercup would have slapped it away and cursed the person for thinking she couldn't help herself. But this Buttercup, this weak, worthless, pathetic, _human_ Buttercup simply accepted the fact that this was who she was now, and numbly let the good samaritan help her onto her shaky feet.

"Thank you," she muttered softly, green eyes trained on the ground as she waited for the hand holding hers to let her go, but it doesn't. She waits a moment before giving a not-so-subtle tug at her hand, but when that doesn't do anything, she scowls in anger and jerks her head up. She may be all bark and no bite now, but her bark was still terrifying. If this good samaritan didn't let her go _right now_, he was losing his arm one way or another!

But right as she was going to give him a very sharp and lethal piece of her mind, he let her go.

"You're welcome, Buttercup."

Fear from earlier returned with a vengeance and froze her as she was locked down by familiar, intense forest green eyes.

Butch.

Because it had been dark last night, the female green hadn't gotten a good look at the male green before he'd vanished into the night. Now, in the light of day, she was getting an eyeful.

A very … nice eyeful, actually.

The Ruff had grown over the last few years, shedding that twig thin, lanky body she remembered from when they were teenagers, in favor of a leaner, taller, muscular adult body. Her eyes lingered on how his shirt clung nicely to his body, hinting at perfectly sculpted arms, shoulders, and chest. His simple, though ripped jeans only seemed to accent the hard lines of his long legs. Midnight black hair was pulled back into a short pony tail, and he must have shaved recently because that stubble she'd felt last night was gone, leaving a fresh shaven face. All the baby fat that used to cling to his cheeks had melted away to reveal a very masculine face that she couldn't help but blush at.

In short, he was hot.

And dangerously powerful.

That last thought was more than enough to pull her out of her trance. Instinctively she took a few hesitant steps back, and when he didn't so much as twitch in her direction, she bolted. She ran as fast as she could into the rain, and all the while she could feel dread sink deeper and deeper into her.

Butch knew she was here. That meant it was only a matter of time before he found her, and God only knew what he would do when he did. God only knew what he would do when he found out that she wouldn't fight anymore. _Couldn't_ fight anymore.

He didn't pursue her as she fled around the corner, but that didn't stop her from taking the longest, most winding track around the city to her home. By the time she finally came back to her apartment, sopping wet and frozen to the bone, paranoia had set in and it was hours later, deep into the night that she felt like she was free of those intense forest green eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: **Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own PPG's.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"He's here again."

Buttercup slouched over even further in her chair. Great. She couldn't breathe right, her body ached like no one's business, and she was so … tired. And now that bastard was here again too? Ugh. She couldn't deal with it. Not today.

"Fuck him."

"You know, I think he likes you," mumbled Dawn thoughtfully as she propped her chin on her hand, roving her eyes over to look at the miserable female green.

"Fuck you."

"I'm just saying," Buttercups co-worker carried on with a smile, "He always comes around when you show up for work. He asks for you to pour his coffee, and he's polite to me when you throw a hissy-fit and say no." She paused to look at the green eyed girl. "I bet he's a nice guy. He's kinda cute too. I think you should ask him out."

"I bet he's faking it," growled the ex-Puff in irritation. "And if you like him, why don't _you_ ask him out?"

"Because I've got Jack, and no one compares to him. Not even your cute admirer."

"Stalker," corrected Buttercup before she was cut off by a new wave of violent and terrible coughs that made her already raw throat hurt all the more. She tried to ignore it, but slowly she was starting to wonder if that cold that she'd caught a few days ago had morphed into the flu, or something. Over reacting like she had when Butch had shown up out of the blue, here of all places, making her (idiotically) spend an afternoon running across the city in the cold rain hadn't been good for her health.

Her friend looked at her with concern once the fit had calmed down and Buttercup was once again taking slow, shallow breaths. "You're getting worse, BC. I really think that you need to go to the hospital before you keel over and die."

"I'm not going to die. I'll be damned if a stupid cold does me in."

"I don't think it's a cold anymore," she said with a frown. "My dad had coughs like that once, two years ago. It was pneumonia. You're coughs are starting to sound like his did."

"You're just a worry wart," muttered Buttercup, even as doubt began to worm its way into her mind. Pneumonia? It couldn't be pneumonia, could it? It was just a bad case of the flu, maybe…. But even as she was thinking that, every breathe she took felt like it wasn't only air in her lungs. Sometimes when she breathed, it felt like she'd just breathed in a bit of water accidentally. And besides, even if it was pneumonia, it couldn't be that bad. People got pneumonia all the time, and they seemed to do just fine.

So long as they went to the hospital and got treated first, of course, but Buttercup ignored that little factoid. For the time being, anyway.

Dawn frowned before sighing and moving onto a subject other than the greens health, and Buttercup was thankful. Besides being annoyingly direct, Dawn also had learned when to cut her losses in a conversation with the ex-Puff.

"So, how do you think he gets in without us noticing?"

Ugh! She wanted to talk about _him_ again?

"Beats me," the green huffed angrily, flicking her eyes towards her counterpart across the diner. Honestly, she'd actually wondered that a time or two. Even now, she could still tell when something changed in her environment, but lately she'd turn around and poof! There he was, fricken Houdini, sitting at the far booth with a book in hand, the slightest curl of a smirk on his lips once he knew her attention was on him. "Probably something his mom taught him."

When they were younger, the mention of Him was usually enough to get Butch pissy and furious. This was it! With determined eyes glued to his back, she waited for him to rise to the occasion, to twitch, to do _something_ but … nothing. He just turned the page of his damn book like he'd been doing for the past few days, unperturbed.

That is literally _all_ he'd done since she'd tactically retreated the other day (she refused to think of it as 'running away'). He'd show up, order his coffee, read his damn book and leave a few hours later. Frankly, it was driving the young woman mad. He was here! He'd found her! What was he waiting for? Wasn't he going to fight her, or something? Maybe he was ignoring her on purpose? Maybe this was some sort of crazy tactic he was using to catch her off guard? It had to be. Why else was he just … sitting there!

"Bastard," she breathed, knowing full well that he should be able to hear her, but the coughs returned and she had to clench the counter-top to keep from falling out of her chair and curling on the floor as she did her best to hack out her lungs.

Hard dark brown eyes caught Buttercups as Dawn scowled. "You need to be in the hospital, BC. You're going to kill yourself if you don't get some rest. Is the diner really worth your life?"

Buttercup frowned and looked away, but didn't answer. Of course working here in this dump wasn't worth her life. If it wasn't for Dawn, she would absolutely hate this place.

Then why was she still here, torturing herself? The pay really wasn't worth what she was putting herself through, honestly (nowhere close actually), but she couldn't bring herself to rest. She didn't deserve it. Not yet.

She had the sinking feeling that she would never deserve it.

The green buried her face in her arms as she felt a very old and much worn part of her soul continue to wither and die.

The familiar slide of ceramic mugs and subsequent liquid-being-poured sound slowly drew her attention to where her friend was pouring a couple of cups of coffee, careful to add lots of cream and sugar to one.

"Thanks," murmured the ex-Puff as she reached for the light colored coffee, but Dawn was fast and slid it just out of reach. Buttercup glared angrily. Really? She was practically dying here and she was being denied the only thing that had slightest chance of reviving her?

"No," her co-worker said sternly. "You want the coffee? Either go to the hospital, or take a break with him." When Buttercup blatantly refused to respond, her friend took the prepped coffee over to the sink.

"No!" exclaimed the green when it was obvious what Dawn was about to do. Dawn raised an eyebrow and, angrily Buttercup picked up the second mug as she reached for the one that was rightfully hers. The shorter woman sighed before handing it over.

"I still think that you should go to the hospital."

"Mind your own business," grunted the green as she slowly began heading over to the bane of her existence. "I'm fine!"

"Not fooling anyone," her friend muttered to the air as she began ringing up the price for an order at the register. Buttercup pretended not to hear as she made her way over to the Ruff.

When he'd showed up here the first time, a few days ago, she'd nearly packed up shop and skipped town then and there. A part of her still wanted to do that, but when he didn't spontaneously break through the walls of her apartment and pummel her to death, she reluctantly talked herself into staying. What was he doing here? Surely if he knew she was here, he'd demand an epic 'once-and-for-all' battle to the death like he always did when they were younger … but he hadn't. It was very … strange behavior for him.

So, she'd made a deal with herself. If she got through the day without having an incident with the Ruff, she'd stay and keep an eye on him, figure out what he was up to. And when the most he'd done was show up at her diner for a cup of coffee and some quiet time to read, she'd reluctantly honored her bargain. There had to be some reason he was here, but what? Theft was obvious, but why hadn't he skipped town already, or caused a scandal that would be all over the news (she'd checked too; he hadn't made so much as a peep in the media)?

Why was Butch here? And why wasn't he up to trouble? Trouble particularly with her?

She was wound tight when she finally slammed and slid his coffee mug at him (without spilling a drop too, she noticed with a strange, detached sort of pride) and slid into the seat opposite the Ruff, scowl in place and looking anywhere but him. Without looking, the attractive dark haired Ruff caught the mug right at the edge of the table, lifted it, and smoothly took a sip. His dark green eyes never left the pages of his book.

Silence quickly filled the air between them. Buttercup was stubbornly determined not to be the first to break the ice. This was her turf. He was going to do all the talking.

Her determination was quickly turning to aggravation though, as he calmly kept reading his book as if she wasn't there practically ready to burst. What was his deal? He was never the type to draw things out! Butch was always the first to start things, aggressively forcing things to move at his speed, so what was he doing? What was his game? Because if it was to annoy her to death by doing nothing, he was doing a damn good job.

Simmering inside, Buttercup took a calming sip of her coffee. The moment the hot liquid slid down her throat though, the coughs began up again suddenly, harder and with more strength than she'd experienced before. Soon she found herself doubled over, gasping as spots began filling her vision, brain oxygen starved. But it was like no matter how deeply she tried to draw air into her lungs, it was never enough, like her lungs were suddenly the size of a baby's. She felt movement long before she rationalized why the seat beside hers was suddenly filled and the comforting warmth on her back was a careful hand.

"You're friend is right, you know. You're sick. Sicker than I thought someone like us could get."

The fit lessened just enough for his voice to penetrate the desperate fog of her mind and she reflexively slapped the comforting hand on her back away as she glared at him. Tears were gathering in her eyes due to the intensity of the fit and she _hated _them! She hated him for being here to see them, and she hated herself for not being strong enough to prevent them.

Hated that he could see her so very weak.

"What do you care?" she growled in rage once she was capable of breathing again. "And why are you here? Don't you have some other city to terrorize?"

Butch leaned back in his seat, giving her a little space once it seemed like Buttercup had control of her respiratory system again, and smoothly his face went blank, unreadable. Buttercup's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The Butch she knew would have risen to the occasion, taken the bait and given her a smooth earful, not … remain silent! What was his game? What was he playing at?

Finally, after what felt like eternity, he said, "I saw a familiar face in town and I thought I'd drop by and say hello."

"Well, hello received. Now leave," she gasped angrily. Her lungs felt like they'd shrunk again and she dimly realize that no matter how much she tried to breathe, how deeply or how fast, she was starting to get light headed and couldn't focus. Couldn't concentrate. Dark spots began dancing across her eyes as if to distract her with their crazy and random ballet, and she had a sinking feeling that maybe Dawn had been right.

She pushed the thought away. She couldn't afford to worry about that now. Butch was here, and getting him to leave was the first thing on her list of priorities.

"No."

That managed to ground her a bit from her spinning, oxygen starved reality as she stared at him, dumbfounded. Just 'no'? No, sweet or smooth taking, no extended explanations of grandeur about how he was going to beat her ass and make life hell for her? What was going on with him? This wasn't the Butch she knew.

The male green smoothly locked his cool, controlled gaze on the ex-Puff, and suddenly she felt exposed. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul, see everything that she'd tried so desperately to hide from the world, from herself, and all she wanted to do was hide. Run.

"I'm not leaving, Buttercup."

She frowned as her heart beat painfully fast, and she glared into her coffee. "Then stay out of my way and leave me alone, Butch. I'm not the same Buttercup you knew in Townsville and I'm not going to put up with your bullshit. Consider this your one and only warning."

She could feel his eyes on her as silence filled the gap between the two of them. Suddenly she lost all appetite, all craving, all desire to be here and only wanted to go home, fall on her bed, and pray that sleep came fast. There, at least, she didn't have to worry about life and live with the guilt. Screw Butch. If he wanted to stay, who was she to stop him? Not that she could.

When she was sure that he wasn't going to say anything more, she weakly stood up (careful to stay as far from the Ruff as she could), but just as she was moving to pass him a hand grabbed her wrist.

"You're not the only one who has changed."

With her heart in her throat, she yanked her arm as hard as she could from his grip and nearly tripped over herself when it came away without resistance. She stared at him as she moved away, intensely confused. When she looked away and went to let Dawn know she was going home and to get her coat, she could still feel him watching her. She felt like a spotlight was focused on her, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, it was impossible. She couldn't.

She couldn't get out of the diner fast enough.

The green felt a little freer once she was outside in the cold, wet mug of the city, but only a little. She wouldn't put it past the Ruff to have x-ray vision, but at least there were a few walls between him and her now. That was a little comforting, at least.

A thick, moist breeze pressed against her face as she slowly, weakly, began to walk down the street, and absent mindedly she took a deep breath in, a habit formed from when she still ruled the skies.

She instantly regretted it.

The moisture in the air filled her lungs and suddenly she felt like she was drowning. She coughed and choked and panic ran like ice through her body as she desperately fought to breath, but no matter how hard her lungs heaved, nothing was getting in. She was starting to see black and she couldn't feel her legs anymore, let alone think a thought past the desperate fight for life.

Vaguely she was aware of the feel of wet concrete under her cheek, and the far away sting of scraped hands and a pounding head. As darkness began to descend on her, all she could think was, _this is it._

Idly she wondered if, given a second chance, she would have taken her friends advice and gone to the hospital and save her sorry excuse for a life, and came to the conclusion that she still wouldn't have. This, lying on the ground suffocating, was what she deserved after all she'd done. She never would have seriously tried to save herself. Subconsciously she'd been waiting for the sickness to get worse, _wanting _it to get worse. Because then it would be over.

It would all be over.

She wouldn't have to live anymore. She wouldn't have to live with the _guilt_ anymore. She was finally paying the final price for her actions three years ago. It was finally going to be over.

She could finally tell Berry that she was sorry.

Even as the darkness claimed her and she couldn't think, see, feel anymore, she smiled.

_Finally_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of the story, even though it kind of ends on an angsty note. But I hope that you're interested now! What's going to happen next?

I upped the rating because the story is going to be pretty dark. I haven't decided if there will be a lemon in it or not, so we'll all have to see how the story goes, but the rating went up for the possibility of that too.

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed. It's reassuring to get such positive responses and they are great for motivating me to continue writing, even when I've had a long day at work and my brain is mush. THANK YOU SO MUCH REVIEWERS! Y'all rock!

Anyway, I think that my post schedule should be about weekly/every Friday or Saturday, but that is subject to change if work is a little too busy over the week so I apologize now. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the PPG's.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Consciousness was a bitch. Between the ocean-like currents of pain that hammered through her head and made her body tremble and shake, the dizzying vertigo, and the unbelievable urge to vomit, Buttercup was more than willing to dive back into the dark nothingness that had cradled her like a baby only moments before and stay there. Forever. She felt like someone had pounded her skull against the pavement over and over … she wanted to scream.

She couldn't even whimper.

In the chaotic fog of her mind, if she couldn't go back she decided to desperately look for anything that could lead her out, ground her. Buttercup thought that she heard voices from time to time, indistinguishable, unrecognizable chattering blah that she couldn't make heads or tails of and soon grew frustrated with. Speak slowly and clearly, damn it! She so wasn't up to this right now….

Pine. The smell of … pine trees, the forest, nature, _freedom_ was recognizable for an instant, just a single instant and she knew that was what she needed to ground herself again. That scent was her salvation. But what she'd smelt had been just a tease, a phantom touch that withdrew as quickly as it had came and, with what strength she had, she searched for it. Desperately. She needed it. She needed it so badly that it consumed her mind.

It wasn't hard to find, it would turn out, and soon her mind was filled with that faint smell of freedom. It surrounded her, held her gently and made the transition just a teeny tiny bit smoother, though she still felt like she was inside a pain filled storm of doom.

Slowly though, she began to become more aware. Her body ached and felt heavier than lead, and she couldn't stop shaking; she was so cold. The worst of it though was the tightness in her chest. It felt like someone had sat on her lungs while she was asleep and now her lungs felt … flat. Compressed. She could barely breathe.

She felt like death … and she felt like she was on the wrong side of it.

Buttercup tried to remember what happened after she lost consciousness. She'd been on the ground, suffocating … and she blacked out. Wasn't she dead? She was sure that she'd been dying, last time she was conscious. There was no way anything could have saved her and brought her back….

But this wasn't what she thought death would be like. The physical pain, the headache and nausea, the absolute sucking of life … it all felt a little too much like … _life_. Sure, she expected pain and suffering in Hell for everything she'd done, but this didn't fit her idea of Hell.

Although, if she were still alive, that was Hell enough. Perhaps that was why she was still alive. She hadn't suffered enough.

Her eyes burned as she felt moisture gather on her eyelashes, despair welling up in her heart. No! Please no! Why wasn't she gone yet? Why wasn't she allowed to die?

Slowly the half-dead green began to open her gritty, strained eyes. It was dark, thankfully, and her headache only grew a little bit as opposed to the colossal stab she'd been expecting. Some ambient light from a nearby streetlamp shown through a draped window and a crack of even brighter light slipped under the door, the only sources of illumination in the room. It was too dark to see anything that was in the room, but it felt like she was in a mildly stiff bed with thick, heavy blankets piled on her body. There might have been a dresser across the way, but it was hard to tell from her position. The soft scent of pine, she now realized, came from the soft pillow she'd been sleeping on and suddenly she was overwhelmed with one question.

Where was she?

This wasn't her room, her bed, or anywhere she knew. For all she knew, someone had picked her up off the street and now she was going to get trafficked, or something. A regular person would have taken her to the hospital or called an ambulance if they found some dying person lying on the sidewalk. This couldn't be a regular person.

A sound outside the door drew her attention a faint pair of voices. They were soft, as if trying to be as quiet as they could, but they were getting louder as footsteps indicated they were coming closer to where she was. One was higher, feminine, while the other was lower, a masculine voice.

Strangely enough, she felt like both were very … familiar somehow. Like she should know them. But her head was pounding and Buttercup could barely think past that barbed wire fence right now. She did have enough presence of mind, though, to shut her eyes and pretend to be asleep just as the knob turned and the door began to open.

It was quiet for a few moments as soft footsteps padded across the floor, and Buttercup did her best to appear as if she was still asleep, trying to relax her body even when it was so pent up with pain that she wanted to curl up in the fetal position and die. It seemed like eternity before anything happened, and the green nearly jumped when it did.

A cool hand gently placed itself on her feverish forehead, and it was all she could do not to moan in relief. That felt so good. But she held onto her self control with an iron grip and soon the hand was gone and, as far as she knew, the person it was connected to was none the wiser.

After a moment, the woman said softly, "She's a little better than she was before, but my healing only seems to work on her half of the time." The voice paused before adding, "I've never seen one of us this … sick before."

The despair that had filled the green only moments before was overwhelmed with intense shock and fear as realization finally set in. No way. She must be hallucinating because there was no way that voice would be here, could be here, where ever here was.

There was no way that Bubbles could possibly be here.

"Neither have I," commented the male voice, and Buttercup was shocked to realize that that voice belonged to the damn man who'd been plaguing her all week. Now on top of the shock and the fear was intense confusion that made her nausea worse than it already was.

Where was she, what was going on, and what was Butch doing here with Bubbles? Why were they both here … and not trying to kill each other? And how did they find her?

"Will she be alright?" questioned Butch quietly after a moment, and Buttercup had to resist the enormous urge to sit up (or try to anyway) and make them answer her questions, but sick fear put an immediate end to that thought.

It had been three years since she'd spoken to Bubbles. After the green's falling out with Blossom three years ago, neither had wanted to involve the gentle hearted blue in the matter. So when Buttercup left, she felt that it was better to simply disappear and cut all ties. A clean break. To this day, Buttercup was decently sure that Bubbles still didn't know what had happened three years ago … and she wanted to keep it that way.

That meant that she couldn't celebrate and embrace her sister like she wanted to. She couldn't scream and have a shoulder to cry on like she'd dreamed about. What needed to happen, instead, was for Buttercup to leave and disappear again (somehow) and let the blue live her own life. Let Bubbles believe that she was just a bitch of a sister instead of a murderer.

Let her believe that until the day the green died.

"I think that she should be alright, so long as she stays put and lets her body fight it off. But you know she's stubborn. You might have to tie her down with chains."

Buttercup waited for the flirtatious, 'kinky' comment to come out of Butches mouth, but it never came. Instead he said, "I don't think that she has the strength to climb out of the bed right now, let alone leave."

"I don't know about that. Buttercup is never one to stay down. I remember this one time in high school she'd pushed herself too hard and wouldn't let herself heal. Then we had this big fight and she kept throwing weak punches, and ended up getting in the way more often than not. Even after we told her to leave and go home, she wouldn't stop." Bubbles sighed before saying, "She's almost as bullheaded and stubborn as Blossom, and she doesn't know when to quit."

"That's not always a bad thing."

"It is when she almost kills herself because of it," the blue said with a hard tone that Buttercup was surprised to hear. When she'd left, Bubbles had been the sweet, nice Bubbles that she'd always been. What she'd just heard had almost sounded like … anger.

After a long, tense moment, the male green asked, "How long do you think she'll be like this?"

"I don't know," responded the blue as footsteps indicated they were leaving. "Like I said earlier, none of us have ever been this sick before. If I didn't know better I'd say she had double pneumonia, but I'm positive that enhanced people like us don't come down with common things like that. Our immune systems are strong like we are. I honestly have no clue what's wrong with her."

"But she will be alright?" pressed Butch quietly and Buttercup resisted the urge to frown. Why would Butch care if she was ok? Hell, why was he even talking to Bubbles?

"I think so. Just make sure that she stays put and drinks lots of fluids. She should be fine, but let me know if her condition doesn't change in a couple of days, alright? I hate that I can't stay, but I have finals in the morning and Boomer gets back from his big meeting tomorrow and you know how he is if he doesn't have an audience."

A grunt was all Butch gave as a response.

The light was starting to fade from the room, and Buttercup practically held her breath (what little of it there was) as she waited for them to finally leave.

"Please, Butch. Don't let her disappear again. This is the first time I think anyone has seen her, and I plan on coming back in a week to find out why she dropped off the face of the planet. Blossom won't tell me anything, but I'll make sure that Buttercup will. I plan on bringing Boomer with me. You know how … _persuasive_ he can be."

Buttercup missed what her green counterpart said as it was covered by the sound of the door shutting quietly, and anything they said beyond that point became faint, muffled, and indistinguishable.

Buttercup let lose the shaky sigh of relief she'd been holding and shuddered in pain. It was dark again, and that was a blessing on her poor brain, but her body was so sore and she still felt like she couldn't breathe.

With grudging Buttercup-style determination, the green attempted to roll over, towards the edge of the bed … and found she couldn't. The blankets felt like they weighed a ton on her body, far stronger than any chains Butch could ever find, and she soon found herself gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. Whatever energy she'd found moments ago had vanished and her body wouldn't so much as twitch at her command.

Suddenly she didn't seem to mind so much if she laid here for a moment or two in this suddenly super soft, super warm bed with the awesome forest scent. It was just so she catch her breath and try again in a second of course, when her strength came back, but until then she could wait a minute. Just a minute ….

… Just a minute ….

She hadn't realized that her minute had turned into a few hours as she drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of the passage of time. Idle thoughts of getting up and plans of escaping wherever she was sat half formed in her deadened mind as she drifted mindlessly.

It was deep into the night before something in her suddenly clicked into awareness and abruptly the sick green was wide awake, bloodshot eyes roving wildly in the dark room. She wasn't alone, she could feel it, and whatever was in the room with her frightened her. Panic rose like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm her. Frantically she searched the deep shadows, every cranny, every corner her eyes could see, but … nothing. Buttercup was overwhelmed by the urge to cover her face with the blanket and pretend to be asleep, pray that whatever was in here with her would go away, like she did when she was a child, but she was still so weak. Her body refused to respond and as every second past, her fear grew that much more potent.

She wanted to scream. Her heart was beating faster than she thought was possible, and against her terror she strained her ears to hear it, find it, whatever _it_ was.

Silence.

Suddenly, a whisper, barely more than a breath of wind reached her ears.

"Oh, poor Butterfly, you don't look so well."

If she could have moved, if she could have breathed she would have screamed in terror. She knew that voice! She knew that smooth putrid voice. It haunted her nightmares at night, when she was alone and the guilt set in. It was the reminder she had of every mistake she'd made, _the mistake_ … and now it was here.

Real.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Not him. Oh God, please, not him! Not that monster!

Not Dain.

A soft dark chuckle sounded right next to Buttercups ear and she flinched before throwing whatever energy she had frantically to jerk her head to the side, _away, _but it was no use. Her body was still useless and she could only watch in horror as a dark shadow suddenly removed itself from its hiding place, taking the shape of a tall, familiar, terrifying man. He moved slowly, silently before standing over her as she lay prone and exposed.

She trembled as an icy hand smoothed itself through her hair a few times before landing on her forehead.

"Oh, you haven't been taking very good care of yourself lately, have you, my little butterfly? This seems to be a very _nasty _case of pneumonia and I think it is highly likely you could die from it." A pause. "I imagine you'd like that, wouldn't you, my dear?"

Panic filled the green as she tried to find her voice. Someone had to be nearby, anyone, even Butch would do, she didn't care so long as they made this nightmare go away and saved her. But her throat was shut tight and her body was so stiff with fear that she couldn't have opened her mouth to scream even if she tried. Intense ink black eyes captured her own and every fear, worry, guilt, doubt that she'd spent years trying to hide and ignore felt like they'd been pulled out for him to see. Buttercup suddenly felt like she it was that awful night again. Like she was in hell.

The hand on her forehead suddenly disappeared, only for a finger to poke her in an almost playful manner as it traced lightly down her cheek, a smooth, sharp nail scraping ever so gently against her pale skin.

"But we can't have that, now can we Butterfly? The games not over and I still need you alive."

Suddenly a cool hand snaked under the covers, gripped her wrist and pulled her arm out. She tried hard to fight off the hand, jerk her arm away, do _something_, but she couldn't. She was too weak.

In no time he had her arm laid out and exposed in the cool air before pressing a finger over a vein … and sliding a needle in. Tears began gathering in Buttercups eyes as she tried to look anywhere but _him_ and whatever he was doing to her. God only knew how Dain was doing to make her life that much worse. What was he doing to her now?

The shadow of Dain tisked at the green as he slowly pressed the plunger of the syringe, forcing cool liquid into her bloodstream, and immediately Buttercup was overwhelmed with fatigue and a general feeling of numbness.

All the aches faded, she wasn't as aware of the tightness in her chest, and her heart seemed to calm down to a reasonable beat as her emotions seemed to slip from her grasp. No more pain, terror, worry … just intense fatigue. Somehow she managed to roll her dulled, tired green eyes to lock on those dark ones she despised and feared so much, and the shadow gave a very cruel smile.

"Don't worry, my dear. It's only a bit of antibiotics with a little voodoo-hoodoo you love so much mixed in. It'll help you feel good as new soon enough, and then you can go back to running around like a little lost kitten again." Slowly she watched as he leaned over her, lips right next to her ear. Buttercup knew she should be scared, should give a damn and scream or push the bane of her existence away but she was just so … tired. "And don't think of trying this tactic again, you naughty butterfly. I'll just come back and save you, time and time again, force you back to life because I'm not done with you. Not at all."

Buttercup couldn't fight it anymore and closed her eyes, succumbing to the arcane induced sleep, but right as she was about to lose consciousness, she felt a pair of cool lips press themselves to her forehead and heard one final thing before sleep claimed her.

"Sleep well, my dear. I'll see you soon."

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><p><strong>AN: **Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update (works been a pain lately), but here it is, chapter 3. I hope you enjoyed it! Gears are starting to move and the story is beginning to gain a little momentum, so hopefully it'll be easier getting it all down on paper and out for y'all to read.

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! I'm open to constructive criticism (after all, it's how we learn, right?) and I appreciate everyone who has reviewed thus far. Your review are what motivate me to keep writing! Thanks you guys!


	5. Interlude

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the PPG's

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><p><strong>Interlude<strong>

Bubbles sighed in relief once she finally exited the exam hall. Lord, those pre-med exams were tough! It hadn't helped that she'd had to constantly push away worried thoughts about her newly rediscovered sister and focus on the complicated questions and labs. She couldn't help but feel cruel that she was here taking _exams_ of all things when Buttercup had finally resurfaced after so long.

The petite blond ran a hand through her bangs with a huff. No. She wouldn't focus on the worry. Butch was watching over Buttercup and she was in stable condition (much thanks to the blues growing healing abilities). Her sister would be fine for the week and Bubbles _would_ speak with her flighty older sister. She just had to be patient. Take care of herself first so that she could take care of others. These tests were important; they determined if she moved onto med school (which was highly likely, given her abilities. Attending the classes and doing the exams were really a formality) and besides, it didn't do anyone any good if she just sat over her dark haired sister, waiting for her to regain consciousness. It was better to be productive.

As the blue took to the air, once she was outside and away from the mob of other competitive test takers (some of which looked ready to fall asleep on their feet from studying all night, though Bubbles knew how they felt), she had to wonder if the reason why she hadn't stayed was because she _didn't_ want to talk to her sister. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe she was feeling a little bitter and a little angry that Buttercup had up and disappeared without telling her, or maybe it was because Blossom hadn't so much as said a word about the green and that they'd both been keeping secrets from her, she didn't know. All Bubbles _did_ know was that, as happy as she was to see her sister again (even on the verge of death, though she still hadn't been able to figure out that little puzzle. Perhaps she should speak to the Professor about it?), she had the nagging feeling that once the hugs and tears were over, the bitch fest would begin and she's be angry and shouting and just not … Bubbles.

Once the blue had gained enough altitude, plotting her trajectory for her apartment mindlessly as she looked over her shoulder to make sure her bag was closed tight (she couldn't count how many times she'd thoughtlessly forgotten to close the darn thing and lost her homework), and went on mental autopilot.

So, no. She had decided to put a little distance between her sister and the anger, calm down a bit before they had their reunion so that she could be the sister that Buttercup needed, not the one she wanted to be right now. That would come in time. Just not right now.

A faint vibration from her front pocket startled the blonde out of her thoughts and she fumbled with her tight jeans pocket to pull the phone out. She'd forgotten all about the thing, abandoning it in her bag for the test and had let routine transfer it back into her pocket once the test was done, bypassing her conscious mind completely. She glanced at the screen before rolling her eyes and chuckling.

Seems that Boomer was back … and waiting to see her, as evident from five missed phone calls and thirty two text messages proclaiming his boredom and desire for her.

Bubbles smiled.

Silly goose. Boomer was always like this after he came back from a business trip, even if the trip was only for a day. That one day would seem like eternity to the male blue and he'd be very … enthusiastic for her by the time he came back. Lately he'd had to leave to take care of business a lot. Which meant she get a lot of … enthusiasm once he got a hold of her again.

Not that she minded. _Not in the least_.

Bubbles ignored the hot burn of a blush as naughty thoughts flitted through her mind, and she had to push those thoughts away before she hit a tree (which had been known to happen once or twice). There would be plenty of time for that sort of thing later. Right now she needed to ponder what to do about Buttercup while she had the time.

What she really wanted to do was talk to Boomer about the situation. Everyone thought that, with his playboy-esque lifestyle and carefree attitude that he was also dumb as a rock. What everyone _didn't _know was that her boyfriend was actually quite brilliant. When he wanted to be, of course. He was the CEO for an up and coming computer software company (though she also had a nagging feeling that he was also dabbling in arms dealing on the side, though she had no way of proving it … yet), had a knack for predicting stock market trends, and had some very useful and impressive insights into complicated matters that sprang up.

The only thing that stopped everyone from realizing these qualities was that he was lazy, too quick for his own good, and had an ego the size of the moon. Life was all about fun, for him. Those other things were simply useful whenever he needed them.

But really, she didn't mind. Bubbles couldn't understand how Blossom could always be so serious all the time, and not enjoy life and have a little fun! That was one of the many reasons she loved Boomer. He didn't take anything too seriously. There was always a touch of childish mischief in everything he did, which always kept her on her toes and made her smile. Sure, he was also immature and always liked to use his power of persuasion on _everyone_ to get his way, but he really wasn't that bad of a guy. He was actually very sweet. Usually. Otherwise, he was just too tempting.

Yet again, Bubbles half-heartedly pulled her mind out of the gutter, a secretive smile creeping its way onto her lips. Not now! She had to think about what she was going to do about Buttercup; that was what was important, not the clever things that Boomer could do with his tongue ….

Bubbles shook her head and took a deep breath, hoping that it would defuse some of the heat she was working up and, coupled with the harsh bite of the wind, she was able to pull herself back enough to think strait. Or straighter anyway.

No, when she went back to visit Buttercup, she was going to take Boomer with her. With his ability to influence anyone to do whatever he wanted simply by touching them (the special ability that he'd managed to develop), she'd be able to cut right through Buttercups bullheadedness and get some strait answers. She frowned though. She didn't like the idea of using Boomer like that, or forcing (persuading, she corrected herself) Buttercup into revealing the past, but she'd waited too long and her patience was damn near gone.

She wanted to get her sister back and that involved knowing what the problem was, and fixing it. It was just like a wound. She'd make her sister better, make their family better, and in no time everything would be just like it was when they were girls. They'd be thick as thieves again.

And just in time for the big news too.

With a small hop-step the blue landed on the wide patio to the apartment that both she and Boomer shared and, after unlocking the door and dropping her bag on the table next to her boyfriend's briefcase, she pulled down her ponytail and ran her fingers through her windblown hair. Boomer usually liked her hair in curls, but flight always managed to pull the curls out. But that was ok. They had some sort of executive party to go to tomorrow and then he'd get all the curls he wanted. For now, though, he'd just have to make due … not that it would matter here in a few minutes.

The apartment was oddly silent as she made her way through the spacious apartment. Usually sounds of shooting, or sports could be heard from the TV as Boomer played his silly video games, but it was … quiet. Bubbles knew he was around (he's sent enough text messages proclaiming it), but what was he doing if not indulging in those loud, noise making games?

Bubbles smiled gently once she entered the living room and saw a pair of feet dangling over the arm of the plush leather sofa. His expensive loafers lay haphazardly on the floor, carelessly kicked off at some point, and as the petite blonde neared her counterpart, her sapphire eyes softened. That business trip he'd just gotten back from must have taken more out of him than he'd expected.

Boomer laid asleep, head tilted to the side with an arm carelessly thrown over his eyes, breath soft, long, and even. She smiled as she shook her head. Silly man. He must have been so tired that he hadn't even bothered to take off this suit jacket and his watch, and she sighed. It was a good thing the suit was going to the cleaners soon. Those wrinkles would never come out otherwise.

The female blue thought about letting him stay there, sleep the afternoon away while she tried to entice him awake with the smell of dinner, but soon dismissed the thought and thought better of it. He'd been gone for two weeks, and she'd missed him. Besides, that sofa really couldn't be good for his back….

Quietly, Bubbles toed off her shoes and slowly climbed over the top edge of the sofa, floating a little until she could maneuver herself to straddle Boomers waist. He didn't so much as twitch and the petite female smiled mischievously before lightly running her fingers over the nice fabric of his jacket and gently undoing the buttons.

She took her time working the buttons on his shirt, and it was only once she'd pushed the fabric away to expose his chest and teasingly rake her fingernails along the ridges of his ads that she'd felt a warm hand slide up her thigh. Boomer straitened up with a yawn, and Bubbles watched transfixed as his body flexed like a cats, muscles straining against skin before she looked up into hazy deep blue eyes and a bright smile.

"Hello beautiful," Boomer said with a grin as he watched her over him, his voice thick with sleep. "You should wake me up like this more often. When did you get back?" he questioned as both hands slid up her legs to rest on her bottom. She smiled before leaning down to brush her lips over his.

"Just got back," she replied with a smile. "Hope you haven't been waiting long."

"I have," he said as he slid a few fingers under the edge of her shirt, making her shiver in expectation. "But I won't complain, so long as you keep doing what you were doing when I woke up."

She chuckled before kissing him again, making him groan. When she pulled away from him, he tried to pull back down, but she resisted. She needed to talk to him now, about Buttercup, before they really got started.

"Butch found Buttercup," she said as she ran her fingers through Boomers thick blonde hair.

"Really?" he asked, surprise evident, but not enough to distract him from his counterpart. "She finally turned up, did she? I told you not to worry." His hands slid up under her shirt and along her back before making her raise her arms so he could pull the shirt off. "Remember, Butch did the same thing a few years ago. Just up and vanished like a fart in the wind. No word, no nothing, and a couple of years later he showed up again." With a deft flick of his wrist, Bubbles felt her bra loosen before she shrugged it off. "The greens will be greens. It's like they have to do some soul searching or something for a few years. Find themselves. But if you ask me, it didn't do anything for Butch. He used to be fun, now he's just …"

"Mature?" prompted Bubbles with a grin.

"A prick."

"Brick is a prick."

Boomer chuckled at the rhyme, but after a moment sighed, content to distract himself with the ample breasts in front of him while Bubbles moaned.

"No, Butch … changed while he was gone. He got … quiet, I guess. Completely different from the asshole he was before, though he is still an asshole."

"You would know," Bubbles teased. "But didn't you worry about him while he was gone?"

"Why should I?" he responded offhandedly as he threaded his fingers into her hair. "Butch is a big boy. He can take care of himself. He is the strongest after all."

Bubbles looked away, unconvinced. "Yeah, but he's still your brother. I worried about Buttercup all the time. You know that."

He shrugged. "I never really understood why you worried. She's a tough, ruthless bitch. Nothing stops her."

After seeing Buttercup in the state Butch had found her in, trying to pull her back into a stable condition, she had to wonder about that statement. But Boomer didn't give her too much time to think about it after he gripped her hips and ground into her, his … _excitement_ evident, even through the layers of their clothes. She moaned, arching her back.

Maybe this conversation_ could_ wait until later?

As the male blue began stroking the sensitive skin on her hip, she thought about the other piece of news she'd been meaning to tell him, but figured that could wait too. There was plenty of time. No rush. Not yet, anyway.

So Bubbles shoved all of those pressing thoughts into the back of her mind, locked the door behind her and tucked away the key. Then, with a devious chuckle, the blue leaned down and kissed her boyfriend.

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><p><strong>AN: **Here you go everyone; The Blues! This little interlude was pretty fun, and I felt like it was a good change of pace from the angst of the past couple of chapters. Anyway, let me know what you think! I love getting feedback from y'all, so please review!


	6. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the PPG's.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Buttercup bolted upright, a scream caught in her throat as her eyes blazed across the dim room. Terror spiked her bloodstream and she frantically felt around under her pillow for the knife she kept there in case of emergencies. What was here? Why was she shaking? Why was she so damn _afraid_?

The absence of her trusty and much loved pocket knife sent a fresh wave of panic flowing over her as desperation prompted her to search for it with her eyes when suddenly she realized … this wasn't her bed.

Huh?

Her panic was beaten only by her curiosity as she stared dumbly at the dark green cotton sheets. These weren't her sheets. Hers were a healthy forest green, and her bed had three pillows instead of this one (what could she say? If she was an outcast, she might as well indulge in the comfort of extremely soft pillows, if nothing else), and she used a much loved quilt as her comforter, instead of this soft, strange mink. On a whim, she quickly looked from the bed to the rest of the room and concluded that the room wasn't hers either. Buttercups brow furrowed.

Where was she?

Buttercup couldn't remember anything about the situation, but as far as she could tell, she wasn't in any immediate danger (any enemy she knew would have chained her up, or tossed her in some sort of reinforced bunker to make sure she couldn't get out). The overwhelming fear she'd woken up to began to slowly ebb back as her training from her days as a Puff came back to her.

Stay calm. Focus. Think.

The kept those thoughts in her head flowing like a never ending mantra as she did a quick systems check of her body. She felt like shit. Her body was sore and weak, and she had to tug the mink up over her body since it was chilly in the room. She was so cold! The green felt … filthy. Her hair was oily and stringy, her skin clammy and moist … God only knew how bad her breath was, but it tasted like something had died in her mouth. She felt gross.

Now that the terror was gone, she was in desperate need of a bathroom. The Puff in her thought that a vanity and bathroom break could wait until she'd made sure that she really _wasn't_ in any danger (or at the very least figure out where she was and how she got here), but nature called and there was no use trying to hold that off. She'd just be too distracted in the end to do a good, thorough sweep of her environment anyway.

With shaky legs, Buttercup slowly pushed herself out from under the heavy mink and tried not to gasp when her feet touched the floor. It was freezing! But now that she was this far, she wasn't about to retreat back into the warm confines of the blanket. She did see a lighter, smaller blanket at the foot of the bed and quickly pulled it around her shivering shoulders. It wasn't that much warmer, but it would have to do until she could find something better.

There were three doors that lead out of the room, and thankfully the only one that was cracked open was the one that led to the bathroom. She practically sighed in relief. For a moment she'd been worried that she'd have to start exploring already and she wasn't going to fool herself. The green was not ready to face whatever or whoever lay beyond the other doors.

Once her business was taken care of, she stood looking in the mirror at the vanity and groaned at the reflection. She looked awful! Her eyes were sunken in and the circles around her eyes were so purple it looked like someone had given her a few shiners. Her dark hair fell limp around her head in a stringy inky mess, and she was sure she could grease the diner's pans with it. She also looked thin. Really thin. Sick thin.

At the thought of thinness, her stomach gave a loud garbled growl and she glared at it. A) it needed to be quiet. B) she had more than a few things on her plate to worry about other than feeding her stomach, though some food would have done wonders for her mood.

She put food from her mind, turned on the water and scrubbed her face. It made her feel a little better, and with that little emotional boost, she sat on the edge of the tub and began to think.

How did she get here? The last thing she could remember was leaving the diner and trying to get home because she'd been sick. Pneumonia. Falling on the ground. Waiting to die. The sequence of events came back slowly, but when they did, she frowned in confusion. Obviously she wasn't dead, but right now she didn't feel … sick, per se. Her lungs felt like they were empty, or like someone had lifted a weight off of them and for the first time in the past week she felt like she could finally _breathe._ She still felt like shit, but it was the recovering sort of feeling. Whereas she'd been sure she was about to die before she passed out, now she was sure that she would live, given that she got out of here, wherever here was.

Depression touched her at that thought. She was still alive. Buttercup held her breath and clenched her eyes shut. Life wasn't over yet. She still had to keep going.

She still had to suffer.

With an agitated huff, she shoved the depression to the back of her mind. Well, if she wasn't allowed to die yet, she needed to get out of this situation. There was always another day for that, but she wouldn't go looking for it. She wouldn't intentionally kill herself, but she wasn't going to stand in deaths way either. Now she had things to do. Once she was safe though, she'd mope and suffer in the guilt of not having succeeded in dying, but not right now.

Puff instincts kicking in once more, even after so long, her head jerked up to get a good look at what was around her. Maybe the stuff in the room could give her a clue as to who her rescuer (or kidnapper, in the more likely case) was.

Now that she looked, she realized that the place was rather … barren. Aside from the bedding, the room itself lacked personality. It honestly looked like the person living here either didn't care enough to decorate, or had just moved in. Toiletries in the bathroom looked like they leaned more towards the male persuasion, but it was hard to tell honestly. A lot of the bath supplies were non-discrepant brands that either a male or female could use, scentless, and in small quantities. The towel that hung on the hanger was white, but that didn't give any indication of gender either (hell, she used a white towel after all), but her instincts pointed her more towards the owner being a man.

Actually, now that she looked, she realized that she was dressed in a man's sized shirt. It was a simple gray undershirt, roomy enough for her lithe frame, and she could have kicked herself for not realizing it earlier. She usually only slept in an oversized T-shirt and underwear, so when she'd gotten up she hadn't noticed the difference.

Now, though, she felt violated. Where were her clothes, and where did anyone get off on changing a sick, dying woman when she was unconscious? A sick man, that's who. She knew it. Rage filled her as she clenched the blanket in her fist. Whoever it was had better have kept his hands to himself or he was a dead man, powers or not!

As the ex-Puff went through the drawers, she eventually concluded that she couldn't gather any more information where she was. She needed to investigate beyond the room now.

Buttercup checked the remaining two doors. One was a closet with a thick coat and a couple of shirts hanging. She jacked the coat and ditched the weak blanket, relief filling her as she began to warm up. Much better.

The third door led out into a hallway and, as quietly and as ninja-like as she could, she began to creep forward. Dewy evening sunlight shown weakly through the first window she past and she peaked out of it slowly, expecting someone to walk by or see her. But nothing was out there. Nothing except an exquisite view of the city.

A view from somewhere high in the sky.

The green repressed the urge to groan and continued on. That was just great. She couldn't be locked up somewhere on the ground floor, could she? No, that would be _way_ too easy. Of course wherever she was would be up on the umpteenth floor of some tall ass building. That wouldn't have been a problem, back when flying was within her repertoire of skills, but now she had to think of how things had to be done the hard way.

She pushed the familiar feeling of loss and weakness aside and kept moving.

The apartment (what she assumed it was anyway) was small, bordering on tiny. There were really only two rooms she realized, once she made it to the end of the hall. There was the room she'd woken up in and the rest of the living space. Slowly looking around the corner showed the edges of a small kitchen, a small table with two chairs, a couch with a TV across from it, and plenty of windows to look out at the city.

How … quaint. Simple.

It was simple and clean, with a huge row of windows along one wall that opened up high into the sky-line of the city, which was a fair distance away.

Experience told her to pause and listen, just in case she missed something and walked into a trap (which had been known to happen a time or two in the past, she grudgingly admitted), but she was pleased to hear nothing. Slowly she looked around for a door, creeping along the wall (looking over her shoulder every few moments, just in case) and sticking to the shadows. A quick sweep revealed that (strangely enough) the only entrance or exit seemed to be from the patio doors.

Her brows furrowed. That's odd. Usually houses had at least two doors that lead in and out. This one seemed devoid of those handy architectural enhancements. Luckily the doors opened up onto a wide expanse of patio outside, so more than likely there would be a door leading down somewhere out there.

She hoped.

Confidence building, she crossed the room, completely focused on getting out. Buttercup was practically enamored with the idea of escaping and getting back to her life. Mental images of her ratty old apartment, the stupid diner, her friend Dawn, the life she'd built here flashed across her mind's eye as she tried to figure out how to open the doors. Maybe the diner wasn't really that bad. She got paid, she got coffee, she worked with a good friend, she got to see Butch-.

The green paused in her work at the sudden random thought of her green counterpart. Why had she just thought that seeing the green bastard would be something that she didn't mind happening on a daily basis? He was a jerk! Who would want to see him anyway? The green tried to ignore the little whisper in her head that said he was a very … attractive thing to see. Buttercup felt her cheeks warm a little as a random mental image of him flashed through her mind.

She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes at herself. God, she felt like Blossom whenever she got a new crush. The green pushed those thoughts away and got back to work, but now with the sudden onslaught of Butch-themed thoughts, she got the nagging feeling that there was something important about him that she should remember. Something … something …. Buttercup huffed. If it had been a really important thing, she wouldn't be fighting so hard to recall what it was. Must not matter. Was probably the dregs of a dream that hadn't quite faded away yet.

"You know, if you reach up at the top there's a latch that will unlock the door for you."

Instincts reacting, the green pivoted on her heel, snarl in place as she turned to face her threat. She may not have been as strong as she used to be, but she wasn't going to sit by and let someone hurt her. She'd fight tooth and nail!

Her eyes widened as she looked over to the couch to see a reclining figure, Butch, and suddenly she realized why she'd had a nagging feeling about him. Memories from last night flooded her memory, the conversation between him and Bubbles before she'd fallen unconscious. Butch must have found her. This must be his place. But how did he sneak up on her? Sure, he was a Ruff, and he could have flown in, but the Butch she knew wasn't known for being quiet. And she could have sworn that sofa had been empty when she'd looked at it earlier….

Whatever, that wasn't important right now.

"Butch," she growled, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. "What am I doing here? Where am I?"

"I see almost dying hasn't affected your temper," he said to the ceiling, an arm behind his head as the other rested lightly on his stomach. "After you collapsed the other day, I took you here and I've been taking care of you, since you can't seem to take care of yourself."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," Buttercup scathed angrily. "I was fine!"

"You were dying and you refused to listen to reason until it was almost too late."

Buttercup scowled, but couldn't help but back off at the blunt, but unfortunately true statement. "You don't know that."

"No. But Bubbles did."

The mention of her sister was exactly what she needed to change the topic. "Why'd you call in Bubbles, you bastard? You should have left her out of it! It's none of her business. And it's none of yours either if I die! What do you care anyway?"

She flinched when he suddenly pushed himself to his feet and began prowling towards her, and she had to fight the urge to take a step back. Suddenly she was terrified of her opposite and his suddenly intense and focused green eyes, but she stubbornly held her ground. Buttercup couldn't afford to back off, not now and especially since Butch had no idea of her … situation. She needed to keep him believing that she could still fight him off, could still leave if she wanted to, that she was still a full blown Puff. If he found out she wasn't ….

Buttercup made up her mind. That wasn't going to happen. She would just have to be convincing and patient, wait for the perfect time to escape and disappear. Simple enough plan. She could do that. She had to.

When Butch had finally stopped right in front of her, not even a foot away and seeming to loom over her though she was only about a half foot shorter, he said, "I contacted your sister because she is a healer and she is your _family_ and you were an inch from death." A strange tinge edged his voice, almost as if he was angry though his face gave nothing away. It was blank and hard, bordering on looking bored but somehow his eyes seemed to look … furious in a strange way. "I honestly didn't think that she'd make it in time, and for an hour after she got here, you were in critical condition. You almost slipped away a few times."

Buttercup swallowed hard as she suddenly looked away, unable to meet those accusing dark eyes.

"You shouldn't have brought her into it."

"So you'd have rather died." He'd said it as a pointed statement, and when Buttercup found that she couldn't say anything to dispute the claim, the silence that settled between them went from heated to icy. "You would," he finally said, and there was no hiding the surprise and accusation.

Anger welled up in the young woman. "No! Of course not," she lied but she knew they both knew that wasn't the truth and she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Why would I want to die? No one wants to die."

His silence, something that she was honestly starting to get pretty annoyed with, thickened before he finally said, "That seems to be the question, doesn't it?"

Her eyes narrowed up at his and they both stubbornly stared each other down, neither willing to give an inch, the characteristic bullheadedness of the Greens raging full force.

What she wouldn't have given for a chance to wipe that damn stoic, proud look off of his damn face.

"You will be staying here while you recover," he finally said, his warm breath tickling over her cheeks before he turned towards the kitchen. "Don't even think of trying to leave. You're weakened right now, and I'd just find you and bring you back. Bound and gagged if I have to."

"Oh, because I have to do what you say?" she suddenly raged, following him to give him a piece of her mind, caution be damned. "I may be sick right now, but that doesn't mean that I can't take you on and beat the shit out of you!" Anger fueled her, something she hadn't felt in a long, _long_ time and it overwhelmed her. It made her feel like her old self.

Made her forget everything that had happened.

Suddenly he about-faced bringing them toe-to-toe and he looked down at her, anger now evident in his forest green eyes, dark hair falling across them making him look intimidating … and dangerously attractive.

Her fury quickly ripped through those beginning thoughts and she glared up at him.

"Fine, Buttercup. If you can win in a fight with me right now, fair and square, I will let you go and I will leave you alone."

"As if you would keep your word," she hissed angrily, furious at him for calling her bluff. He didn't say anything, simply lifting his arms at his sides, offering her a free target … if she could take it.

As much as she wanted to, as much as the furious inner-Puff wanted to take his face and wipe it across the floor she knew that even if she tried, it would be like a baby fighting an adult. She wouldn't even be able to bruise him, even at her best.

With a sinking, terrified feeling, she wondered if he knew that too.

With emerald eyes narrowed and a look that could have killed if it was possible, she stared him in the eyes for a minute before turning and heading back to the room, leaving him exactly where he was, and slamming the door.

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><p>Hey everyone! Sorry about the long delay for this chapter. Life is life and it takes priority, but here it is! Chapter 4! Let me know what you think. I appreciate reviews and constructive criticism. I'll try and keep a more consistent update schedule from now on, so hopefully it wont take so long for the next chapter. Anyway, thanks for reading and please leave a review!<p> 


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